In trance I hail a son of light
Woe stings my lord; the fire deer quake.
Vile, grey men seize his box long prized
to drift in time and rouse The Beast.
Zel gilds iron horns with ten sky jewels
a red beam scalds fair tribes of grace
runes blaze on hearts bound fast in coves
A wolf pack snarls; it rends the saint.
Blood spurts on fiends who melt and froth
Wan elves cast herbs; the marred box glints.
God's pure lamb soars; a fairy choir guides
the orb of dusk to weave his cross
Hymns fade wet pulp and holy scent wafts.
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